


Lost in Broadchurch

by Sheffield



Category: Broadchurch, Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheffield/pseuds/Sheffield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a thousand years of ... years just batter at your brain.  The TARDIS sent them here, each with a headful of memories not his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in Broadchurch

The church was empty. He glanced round - even after all these months, even with the voice in his head saying "Reverend Paul Coates, your name is Reverend Paul Coates" he couldn't quite shake off the need to check. He couldn't rest till he'd made sure all the statues were in the same place as they had been yesterday. Just statues, then. Still. He turned off the lights. He opened the door and stood a moment in the doorway, just breathing in the peace and the sea air.

He saw him walking up the path, alone. 

He looked up and their eyes met. This was the moment, then.

"Doctor?" he said softly.

DI Alec Hardy looked at Reverend Paul Coates and didn't know him at all.

"Who?" he said.  
"Ah. Um... you haven't met me yet, have you, sorry. Different timeline and all that." He made air quotes with his fingers "Spoilers!" Sighed. Tried again. "You're the Doctor. I... travel with you. Later."

DI Alec Hardy drew himself up an inch taller and suddenly it was back, there behind the eyes, his... doctorness. Just like Rory knew it would be, from the portrait galleries in the Tardis. "Oh you do, do you? That's... interesting."

"It's an accident. Me being here. At least, at least I think it is. I mean... I needed a rest. A break." he laughed, but it was closer to a sob. "I got killed, and then I got made into an auton and... no, spoilers, sorry. I mean, I have a thousand years of... years... in my head, and it's supposed to be walled off, but sometimes, Doctor, the walls are thin and I can hear it and it's all just THERE. You know?"  
"Son, I'm a nine-hundred year old alien with two hearts." This didn't sound promising but Rory looked up, eyes wet, wishing it was The Doctor, or at least HIS Doctor, but then he saw this doctor's lips quirk. "I mean, of COURSE I know - about time, and loss, and loneliness, and all that..."

"Why are you... here, then?"  
"Same thing, I think. I got a bit lost, and then I got a bit... lonely. I suppose. And she - the Tardis - threw me out here with a head full of someone else's memories. I think she thought I needed a holiday."

Neither of them commented on what kind of a life would make a futile search for the killer of a dead boy seem like a holiday.

"Interesting, though. That she'd send you here. Same time, same place; different timelines..."

There was something in the Doctor's eyes, something he'd seen but never noticed, never mentioned. Something he'd only seen pointed at Amy...

He wasn't sure how they came to be walking, but they were. Side by side, an inch or two apart. He was so *tired*...

The vicarage was - weirdly comfortable, actually. A bachelor pad. It wasn't the detective - bristly, Scottish, flatly incredulous - any more, it was the Doctor. Maybe not HIS Doctor, but surely, surely, still THE Doctor. He made tea, stupid, useless, English bloody thing to do, something to do with your hands, something to pass the time...

He turned with the teacup in his hand and the Doctor took it from him. He never heard it crash, although he supposed it must, when he picked up the pieces later. But here, now, there were hot lips on his, warm arms around him, mindless noises. Time battered at them both, but, together, just for a while... they let it ride.


End file.
